


A Long Distance Correspondence

by astrosoda



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn, dead name mention, no squip au, pen-pal au, slooooooww burn, sorta - Freeform, they're both trans shocking ik
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-09 05:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11662641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrosoda/pseuds/astrosoda
Summary: Jeremy Heere and Michael Mell are assigned as pen pals their senior year of high school. They start a correspondence that lasts a lot longer than a school year-and end up a lot more than pen pals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> there's a mention of dead names in this chapter, so if you don't want to read that stop at "He skimmed the rest of the paper" (not actually in quotations) and begin again at "My name's Jeremy Heere". For the second mention, stop at "It basically seemed like he had to write to a random person in the middle of the country" and begin at "My name is Michael Mell".

Jeremy didn’t pay attention in class. Ever. 

 

The only thing he cared to paid attention to were the birds outside the window. He would take watching their uneventful lives over listening to a teacher drone on and on about a topic none of them cared about any day. 

 

He was usually able to scrape by with a B or C, since he got the notes and assignments off of Christine, but she was starting to tell him that he needed to begin focusing or he wouldn’t have a chance once college came around. He agreed with her, but couldn’t bring himself to actually put any effort forward.

 

Jeremy jumped out of his bird-watching trance one day in English when a piece of paper fell onto his lap. He looked up and saw the teacher handing out similar papers to everyone in class. She almost never gave handouts, so there was no doubt they had a big test coming up that Jeremy would have to get the notes for. 

 

“I would like your first letters by Thursday,” the teacher said, and Jeremy realized he was completely lost. He looked down at his paper, and ignoring the name on top-he’d scratch that out later-he saw that they would be writing to a penpal their own age from a random area in the US. He groaned internally. This was going to be something that the teachers pushed onto them for “experience dealing with other people before college,” as if they had never left New Jersey in their lives. 

 

Sure enough, on the first page there was an introductory letter from the teacher. _Hello, senior! To prepare you for the future, to help you make a life-long friendship, and to keep the age-old art of letter-writing alive, you will be assigned a partner from another senior class across America, and you will be encouraged to write to them! We request no crude language or sexual content-don’t forget, teachers may be reading these. Good luck, and happy letter-writing!_

 

Jeremy rolled his eyes at the cheesy words. There would be one, maybe two, correspondences, and then everyone involved would move onto the next boring _“Damn, we don’t want you to leave without a good experience!”_ project. He skimmed the rest of the paper, which listed rules about writing your penpal, and reached the bottom, which stated the name and location of his penpal. _Your penpal is Michelle Mell, from Olympia, Washington._

 

Shit, if he already knew the name of his pen pal, did she already know his? Jeremy hoped not. He really didn’t want to deal with another person making fun of him. 

 

Then again, this kid probably wasn’t a stranger to jokes about her name. _Michelle Mell-who the hell would name their kid that?_ Jeremy thought. 

 

The bell rang, and Jeremy stuffed the paper in his backpack and hurried out the door. He waited for Christine in the hallway and followed her to her next class while she rambled about the project. 

 

“My pen pal’s from Sarasota, and since that’s such a big art city, maybe she’ll be into drama. What do you think? I think she will be. Oh, what if she’s better than me? Do you think she’s better than me, Jeremy?”

 

“What? I don’t think you’d have a way to figure it out.”

 

“I guess you’re right. Where’s your pen pal from?”

 

“Washington. Olympia.”

 

“Oh, cool! My great-uncle lives in Washington. He’s a bastard.”

 

Jeremy laughed, and Christine waved and went to her next class. He went into Chemistry-the teacher was out, so they were watching a movie-and saw that the blinds were closed. He went to his seat and tried to figure out what to do for ten minutes before biting the bullet and deciding to get his letter done by the small light emitting from the girl on his right’s phone. 

 

_Dear Michelle,_

__

 

__

_I don’t know if they gave you my name or not but it’s Jeremy in case they did. Don’t use that name that they printed. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, ignore this._

 

__

_My name’s Jeremy Heere, and I live in Middleborough, New Jersey. At the moment, I’m trying not to throw up because the guy on my left is chewing gum and making the biggest bubbles in the world. It’s disgusting. If you find spit on this, you know where it came from. Sorry._

 

__

_What kind of stuff are you into? I mostly just play video games. I’m halfway through Apocalypse of the Damned right now, but I would be done if it weren’t two-player. I always have to go online and see if anyone wants to play with me so it’s kind of hard to play sometimes._ __

 

__

_I’m not dating anyone. Do you have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or whatever? If you’ve ever dated anyone for more than three weeks-only one person-you’re beating me. Congratulations._

__

 

__

_I think this is long enough. I don’t know. I didn’t really read the rules about this, other than you’re not supposed to say shit._

__

 

__

_Sincerely_

__

 

__

_Jeremy_

 

He nodded to himself, pleased with his work, and stuck the paper in his backpack. He proceeded to turn his head the other way from Craig the bubble-blower and fall asleep.

 

\- 

 

Michael was very good at school. The only reason he didn’t get outstanding grades is because he was stoned out of his mind throughout the day.

 

It was easy to ignore everyone else if they didn’t make understandable sentences. He was able to make school tolerable by expanding his budget and buying enough weed to last him the whole eight hours of school, plus a little extra. 

 

Michael had taken a few extra hits before English one day at the beginning of the year, and couldn’t pay attention to a thing the teacher was saying. He thought a lot of people were going up there to get a piece of paper from the teacher-maybe they all had detention?-and was eventually pushed over by the kid sitting next to him. Michael assumed that he was the next to get a mystery detention, and walked up there to receive the slip of paper. He stuffed it in his bag when he sat back down and didn’t pay attention to it or anything else for the rest of class. 

 

When Michael got home, he lit a joint and remembered the paper in his bag. He unwrinkled it as he got it out and ripped off the top of the page, the part with his old name on it, and threw it in the wastebasket before reading the rest. 

 

It basically seemed like he had to write to a random person in the middle of the country. He skipped the rules and saw the person he was supposed to write to: _Janet Heere, from Middleborough, New Jersey._

 

He wondered if this New Jersey person would be weird. He always saw weird things about New Jersey on the news, and really wanted to ask this person if she lived like that all the time. The soberer side of his mind reasoned that he didn’t have any friends, so it would probably be a good idea to get someone to talk to, even if they were on the other side of the country.

 

He then saw that it was due tomorrow. If he wanted to use this as a way to talk to someone, he needed to get writing. 

 

_Dear Janet,_

__

 

__

_My name is Michael Mell. I am seventeen years old and I’m doing this because I finally have an A in English without doing any work and I’d like to keep that streak alive for future generations. I want them to know they can get baked while still achieving grades good enough to leave this hellhole of a state. I’d like to be their inspiration._

__

 

__

_What is New Jersey like? I’ve never been farther east than Michigan-never had a reason to-but I doubt you’ve been to Washington so I hope this isn’t too weird of a question. It’s boring here, in case you were wondering._

__

 

__

_I bought an old PT Cruiser a few months ago, and it runs surprisingly well. I bought it off the same guy I buy my pot from so I figured it’d be a piece of shit, but it drives well. It’s kind of small, but it’s not like I have anyone to tote around in it. I won’t let my parents get in it because it smells like weed and has four months’ worth of slushie cups in the back. I buy one every day, so I could probably make a Styrofoam city out of it all. I really don’t want my parents to yell at me about it._

__

 

__

_I don’t do that much else. I play video games and drink vintage sodas that are almost definitely expired. Does that actually do any damage? I should look it up but I don’t have that kind of motivation._

__

 

__

_I think this is good. I don’t know if you get a lower grade if your pen pal doesn’t respond, but if you do you better write back. I’m not losing my inspirational A._

__

 

__

_Later, dude._

__

 

__

_Michael_

 

Michael was pleased with his work. He successfully managed to ask about New Jersey, and divert attention away from his name. It didn’t occur to him that his teacher might have read it before he sent it, but it wouldn’t have mattered; everyone knew he was a stoner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a dead name mention/unintentional misgendering at the beginning, so if you want to avoid that don't read until the first time it says Michael.

A week and a half after Jeremy turned in his letter, he had received nothing in return. Finally, during the attendance call that day, the teacher waved a reply in the air at him. He got up and took it from her, then unfolded it when he got back to his seat.

 _Dear Janet,_

Oh shit. Oh fucking shit. Of course. She thought he was weird and decided to ignore his pleas. Of course. It was idiotic for Jeremy to think he had a chance to maybe-

He looked at the date at the top. It was written a day before he sent his.

Okay, okay, that was good. She didn’t know. She wasn’t rejecting him right off the bat. He read further.

Michael.

This kid had introduced themself as Michael.

Jeremy began thinking of possible explanations. Maybe they were like him, and their school just didn’t put the right name down. That would make sense. They’d obviously not put Jeremy’s right name down, so maybe the school did that to them.

Jeremy read through the letter-nothing else implying that his pen pal was also trans jumped out at him. Then again, other than the little disclaimer at the top of his own letter, nothing indicated it in his, either.

Michael seemed pretty laid back, from what Jeremy could tell. He must have mentioned drugs five or six times; Jeremy hadn’t read the rules but he was positive that was against them.

The bell rang a few minutes after Jeremy finished reading the letter, and when one more period was over he headed to the cafeteria. He met Christine at their table, and she bombarded him with questions immediately.

“So what’s your pen pal like? Did she mention anything about how weird Washington is?”

“No, they said Washington was pretty boring.”

“They?”

“Y-yeah. They introduced themself as Michael so I figured it would be better to use them until I know. Should I ask?”

“Probably. Better safe than sorry. Also, what if they’re trans, too? Then you’d definitely have something in common!”

“They mentioned video games, so we already have something in common.”

“Cool! Did I tell you my pen pal said she didn’t do drama or anything? She seemed like she hated the arts! How could you hate the arts? You have to like at least one of them, right?”

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, you told me. Several times, in fact.” Christine had received her letter several days before Jeremy, and had complained about her pen pal’s lack of interest in performing arts ever since.

“I’m just baffled by how someone could not be into that sort of thing," she said.

“I’m not really into it, and we’re still friends.”

“You tried it, at least. Remember last year’s play?”

“Yes, I remember. You dragged me into it.” Jeremy didn’t like to think about his small part in the school play in junior year-he was so terrified of the stage that he had almost puked, and someone else had had to say his one line.

Lunch ended, so Christine couldn’t offer a rebuttal about how he would enjoy it more this year if he would just sign up. They separated and went to their separate classes, and Jeremy made a mental note to ask Michael about their pronouns before he forgot.

-

Michael received his reply letter two weeks after he had sent his. He had, for all practical purposes, given up on getting a letter back, but his teacher handed him one when he walked in one day.

He was a bit too stoned to read it seriously-he just kept laughing at the name Jeremy, since it seemed like the name of someone who watched _The Big Bang Theory_ and thought that some obscure indie film was the best movie ever made. He didn’t really make the connection between Jeremy and the other name he was given until he got home and sobered up a bit. At that point, he was slightly confused, looking back at the sheet he received before the project started to make sure he hadn’t just misread something.

He read the greeting, and suddenly got it. _They messed up my name on the thing, so obviously they messed up his!_ He’s probably trans, too!

That made more sense than his kidnapped by aliens and replaced with a stuck-up nerd theory he had made earlier when he was stoned.

He read the rest of the letter, which made a little more sense than when he wasn’t baked.

“Whoa, shit!” Michael said to himself. “He plays _Apocalypse of the Damned_ too!”

Michael had been playing that game for a solid month, but never got through it because the guys he usually played with were always too busy. It was a shame, too; he was on the top of his main server’s leaderboards and would probably be bumped down if he didn’t get _Apocalypse_ done soon.

It seemed Jeremy had that problem too, at least about having no one to play with, so he made a note to himself to mention playing together the next time he wrote. The kid seemed kind of cool, he thought; maybe a little uptight-who couldn’t stand a person who blew bubble gum bubbles?-but that was pretty understandable if you couldn’t stand seeing other people’s food. He decided to write back at that very second, and when he was done, added a quick _P.S.: Wanna play Apocalypse of the Damned together sometime? I’m Watermellon78, in case you need to look it up._

Michael grinned, and wrote a note to himself on his hand reminding him to give it to his teacher the next day. He laid back onto his beanbag, and checked the current server for _Apocalypse._ No one was online. He settled himself in for another hour of refreshing the page.

_Please let Jeremy play this with me so I get the damn thing over with._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ready for the angst train


	3. Chapter 3

Jeremy received his next letter at the end of October. He and Christine were going to go to Jake’s annual Halloween party that night-the only reason they were even invited was because Christine and Jake dated for about a month and he still thought she was nice and asked her to come. Jeremy was going as her plus one.

The same day he got his letter, the teacher stood up and announced that the pen pal program through the school was closing- _called it_ , Jeremy thought-and that if they wanted to continue a correspondence with their pen pals, they would have to do it through their own addresses and postage. Jeremy considered continuing to write to Michael, and then wondered if he had mentioned anything about it in his newest correspondence.

He read through the letter Michael sent him. He talked more about shitty job at Spencer’s Gifts than anything else, although he did slip in a line in the middle asking if Jeremy were also a trans guy-Jeremy guessed he used he/him pronouns from that line. He added an extra line after the closing, asking Jeremy if he wanted to play _Apocalypse of the Damned_ together sometime.

Jeremy kind of recognized the username, and spent two periods trying to figure out where he had heard it before he remembered in the middle of Christine’s rant about the legacy of the _Phantom of the Opera_ (”It’s just not as popular as it used to be, and it deserves more credit than it gets.”). He played with that guy sometimes, if they were both available. He had said that he lived in a different time zone and he couldn’t usually play with him since he had stuff to do, and Jeremy thought that was just an excuse to leave him hanging.

Michael was good, too. He was one of the highest ranked players in the United States, and Jeremy was always thankful whenever he was online and wasn’t busy, because they could get through a level in half the time it took Jeremy and someone else to do it.

_What are the odds that the best player I’ve ever played with is my randomly assigned pen pal from school?_ Jeremy thought. _That’s really weird._

Jeremy zoned out for the rest of the day, then rushed home and got on the _Apocalypse of the Damned_ server to see if Michael was on it. When he saw that his username was inactive, Jeremy felt a pang of sadness, but remembered that Washington was three hours behind New Jersey, so there was no way Michael could be out of school yet.

Jeremy sat on his beanbag chair and waited for a few hours, playing mindless games and eating his weight in Funyuns. Michael’s username eventually became active, and Jeremy clicked on it and sent a quick _Hey, you wanna play_ Apocalypse _together?_

He responded with _Sure, but I still haven’t gotten through level eight. It’ll make you redo it._

_Okay, that’s fine with me_ , Jeremy replied.

The game loaded, and Jeremy heard Michael moving around through the headset. He grinned, and then realized that he had no memory of how to complete level eight.

-

Michael got home a little later than usual and hurried down the stairs to the basement, as to avoid his parents cornering him for arriving late and smelling like weed. He logged onto his gaming server, and immediately someone requested to play a game with him. This was pretty normal; he was one of the best players in almost every game, and everyone wanted to be able to say _I played with the best!_

He read the quick message, and accepted, since he just wanted to beat in some zombie brains and not think about anything. His headset connected to the other player’s, _Heerecomestheboom_. Michael played with this guy about once a month, and he was pretty good for not being on the national leaderboards.

“Hey!" Michael said into the microphone. “Do you remember anything about how to beat this level? Turner and I’ve been trying for weeks, but we still haven’t figured it out.”

“Nope, not at all. Hey, is your name Michael?”

Michael froze. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“It’s Jeremy! From those letters the school made us write? I recognized your username and figured you’d be into playing together, maybe? Unless you changed your mind, which is totally cool.”

“Oh, man, really? Jeremy the prick about bubble-blowers Jeremy? I didn’t know I played with you.”

“Yeah, you do. I’m not a prick about bubble-blowers, either; I think it’s kind of gross if it’s like six inches from your face, you know? That’s understandable, right?”

Michael laughed. “Sure, sure. So did they tell you all that they’re too cheap to keep up the letters themselves, even though like four people were doing them, or was that just us?”

“No, that was us, too. Do you want to keep doing it?”

“No offense or anything, man, but I’d really rather play video games and talk than have to write letters. Oh, shit!” A zombie attacked right next to where Michael stood. Jeremy killed it and ran away.

“I’m not offended. That makes sense, anyway. Why spend money writing letters that’ll take two weeks to get anywhere when you can just talk and play video games?”

“That’s what I’m saying, dude.” Michael leaned back and took a swig of his Crystal Pepsi. “So what else are you into, other than apparently sucking at killing zombies?”

“Hey, I just saved your ass! You should be thanking me!” The boys laughed, and they continued their chatter until the early hours of morning.

-

Christine sat in her car and tried so hard not to cry. She couldn’t cry when she was all alone outside of her ex-boyfriend’s house. That would be a whole new level of pathetic.

Jeremy didn’t show up, even though he promised her he would, and he wouldn’t answer his phone. Christine started thinking of all the awful things that may have happened to him, although she knew rationally that if anything had occurred, Mr. Heere would have called her.

The truth was that her best friend stood her up.

Christine had no idea what she did wrong. Did she talk too much? Jeremy never seemed to mind; she thought he enjoyed it. Maybe he didn’t.

Perhaps he forgot about the party. But if he did, why was he avoiding her calls? He always answered his phone.

He said he would meet her there, but he didn’t show up or answer his phone. That didn’t make any sense.

_Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, please just don’t cry._

Christine couldn’t help it. She rested her head on the steering wheel of her car and wailed. Her best friend, her only friend, had abandoned her, and she could do nothing about it. She was all alone.

There was a soft tapping on the driver window, and Christine panicked before looking up and seeing Jenna Rolan standing there. She rolled down the window.

“Are you okay? You’re crying pretty loud.”

Christine wiped her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’re all alone, and you’re crying, which is usually a bad sign.” She gestured over to the passenger’s side. “Mind if I sit?”

Christine nodded, and Jenna walked over and slid into the passenger’s side. She turned to look at Christine and folded her arms. “What’s up?”

Christine took a deep breath. “My friend left me. Jeremy was going to be here and he’s not and he won’t answer his phone and-” She cut herself off with a choking sob.

Jenna leaned over and wrapped her in a hug. “Hey, it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. He’s a piece of shit for leaving you. You deserve better.”

Christine pulled away. “Thanks.” She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve and fished her keys out of the cup holder. “I need to get going. H-have a big play rehearsal tomorrow.” She looked over at Jenna. “T-thanks for helping me.”

“No problem,” Jenna replied. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Do you have my number?”

Christine shook her head and handed her the phone, and Jenna added herself as a contact. “There,” she said. “Any problems, call me. I’ll be there.”

She left the car and waved to Christine before heading back to the party.

_Jeremy Heere will have hell to pay for this_ , Jenna thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry christine


	4. Chapter 4

When Jeremy entered the school the day after Halloween, he immediately knew something was wrong. Everyone was staring at him, but it wasn’t the stare he normally received when he walked in; it was a you did something wrong stare. He walked over to Christine’s locker, where she was getting her books for the next two periods, and asked her what was going on.

“Hey, Christine? Do you know why everyone’s looking like me like I commit homicide?”

She looked at him with a stoic expression, closed her locker, and walked away without a word. Jeremy stood in silence for a few moments, trying to comprehend what was going on, when he heard someone come up behind him.

“That’s what you get for being an asshole, Heere.”

He looked behind him and saw Jenna Rolan standing with her arms crossed against her chest. She looked at him as if he were a disgrace to her and her entire family.

“What are you talking about?” Jeremy asked. “I wasn’t an asshole-at least, I don’t think I was.”

“Oh, yes, you were. You stood your best friend up and left her all alone, crying in her car. All because you abandoned her. That sounds like asshole behavior to me.”

Jeremy slapped an open palm to his forehead. “Fuck! I forgot all about that party! Oh man, I’m such a shitty friend.”

“Yep,” Jenna said, crossing her arms. “You are. What were you even doing that would make you ditch your best friend, anyway?”

Jeremy couldn’t come up with a good excuse. He couldn’t tell her the truth-that he was just playing video games with a guy who apparently had endless amounts of weed-because that would make him sound like even more of a douche than he already appeared to be. But he didn’t want to lie, either.

“I-I’m sorry, I really don’t have a good reason for leaving her. The party just skipped my mind. I just forgot. Why is everyone staring at me, though?”

Jenna picked at her nails. “I may have told Chloe what happened, who told Brooke, who told Rich, who told Jake, and we all know that once Jake’s pissed at someone, they’re basically dead meat.”

Jeremy sighed. He should have known that Jenna would let it get out; he also should have known that everyone would be mad at him for hurting Christine. She wasn’t really anyone’s friend, but she was someone everyone looked out for, and Jeremy had broken the unspoken promise of not hurting her.

He felt absolutely awful. After everything that Christine had done for him, he’d let her down. He tried apologizing to her any chance he got, but anytime he got anywhere near her, someone would give him the evil eye and turn Christine away.

Jeremy tried to talk to her in English, but she kept her head down and didn't make eye contact with him. He didn't have any more luck trying to speak with her during lunch, since by then most of the popular kids had formed a ring of protection around Christine. He tried to get near Christine so that he could talk to her, but he met Jake’s eye and he flipped Jeremy off. Jeremy gave up and walked back to his normal table all alone.

He even tried calling her when he got home-a last ditch effort considering that Christine didn’t believe in calling someone unless it was an absolute emergency, since she preferred to talk to people face-to-face. Jeremy kept getting voicemail. He left so many messages, he was sure he filled up her storage.

He eventually gave up, and crawled over to his beanbag chair. He opened up Apocalypse’s server, and checked to see if Michael was on-maybe he could cheer Jeremy up, take his mind off things. He wasn’t. Jeremy looked over at the clock. It read 7:48. _Michael should be out of school by now_ , Jeremy thought. _I bet he’s avoiding me, too._

He curled into a ball on the beanbag chair and sobbed into it. His stomach hurt and he was all alone; he had no one to talk to and no one to hang out with.

_This is the absolute worst feeling in the world._

-

_“Hey, Christine? It’s Jeremy. I tried calling you but you didn’t pick up, so I’m leaving a voicemail. I guess that’s pretty obvious, huh? Ha…. Anyway, I’m sorry that I ditched you last night. It was an accident, and I don’t know why I didn’t think to call to tell you I wouldn’t be there. I’m so, so sorry. I really hope you can forgive me.”_

_“Christine? Yeah, it’s me again. I know I called you ten minutes ago, but I really need to tell you that I have absolutely no excuse to missing Jake’s party. I was playing video games and I lost track of time. Shit, that’s an excuse, isn’t it? Fuck. I’m sorry. It was a shitty thing for me to do and I am such an awful friend.”_

_“Sorry, sorry, but I think it’s kind of dumb that suddenly whenever you’re hurting everyone wants to be your friend, but before now no one really did. Ugh, I shouldn’t have said that. But don’t you think that’s true? That was a stupid thing for me to say. It’s just that they didn’t really pay attention to you before now-damn it! I’m going to get off of here before I say anything else dumb. How do you delete messages from this thing? Argh! Sorry.”_

_“Okay, I wanted to again apologize for ditching you and for that last voicemail. I wasn’t thinking. Of course everyone wants to be your friend! You’re awesome! They probably just didn’t think to act on it until now, since all this attention has been drawn to you. So, I mean, there is some good in this. You have more friends than just me now! I guess we’re still friends. I hope. I really want to be, but I get it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.”_

_“Wait, in that last one, did I say that it was good that I left you? Because it totally wasn’t. I’m so sorry if I said that. Shit-what if I didn’t say that and now she thinks I ditched her on purpose? Ugh, I didn’t leave you intentionally, Christine, I’m just a really shitty friend and I’m, again, so, so sorry that I left you. Please forgive me.”_

-

_“Jeremy? Yeah, it’s me. Christine. I got your voicemails. I understand that you’re sorry about what you did, I really do, but I don’t think I’m ready to be friends with you again just yet. When the time is right, and once we’ve moved past this, maybe we can reconcile, but for now, I think we should just take a break and do our own thing. Alright? I’m sorry, but I just can’t forgive you right now.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i probably won't be able to post next wednesday bc that's when school is back in session but i'll try my absolute best 
> 
> also over 500 hits y'all are amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> alright, so the plan is to update on sundays and Wednesdays. is it sunday when i'm posting this? nah, but i'll try to make it that way from now on. 
> 
> also it killed my southern ass to say soda instead of pop hope y'all are happy


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